


Peas

by kingdomkey



Category: Toy Story Series (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdomkey/pseuds/kingdomkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrote this one night on a whim. Sid visits the Davis family after a fight with his dad. I don't have a beta so there will probably be mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peas

The doorbell rang twice before the door was opened, forcing Mrs. Davis to stand up from a client’s file. She knew only Sid walked in without invitation, having spent countless afternoons and evenings hanging out with her son in his room. She didn’t bother pushing her chair back into place, knowing she would come back after saying hello to her son’s friend. Sid knew their routine and stepped into the kitchen area with a, “Hi, Mrs. Davis.”

“Hey, Sid, And—Sid!”

She knew Sid’s father once; he’d been an okay man at that time, his body consisting of more water than alcohol. Time has a habit of changing a man, and time had changed Mr. Phillips into a man living off Budweiser and violence. More than once Sid had appeared on her doorstep limping or bruised, but that rotten man had never hit him somewhere noticeable.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Sid excused his black left eye and his busted lip. “I’ll be okay.”

Mrs. Davis raised her hands, intending to touch his face as concerned parents do, but dismissed that idea and turned to the freezer instead. “Does Andy know?”

Sid wasn’t looking at her. She couldn’t see if he was, busy as she was looking on the shelves. “No.”

A bag of peas in her hand, Mrs. Davis shut the freezer door and turned to her son’s friend. “Well, he’s going to find out now, isn’t he? Here, take this.” She dropped the peas into his hand. “Put it over your eye.”

He pressed his fingers into the bag, feeling the peas shift around like small marbles. Following Andy’s mother’s direction, Sid pushed the peas against his eye. “Uh, thanks.”

Mrs. Davis looked over him once and sighed. She was at a loss. “Andy’s upstairs,” she told him, “Taking a nap. Wake him up for me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Sid lingered in the kitchen anyway, rethinking his coming here. Good people like Mrs. Davis didn’t just sympathize, they sought to help. She didn’t need to take on his burden. He nodded to signal his departure upstairs, leaving her to stare at her client’s file while his bruised face burned itself into her mind.

Andy liked his door to be closed when he napped, but he kept it unlocked in case of emergencies or unannounced visits from Sid. He wasn’t disturbed by his door’s squeaking hinges or Sid’s louder than usual footsteps across his bedroom floor. He slept through Sid deliberating if he should sit on the bed and shake Andy’s shoulder or just wait for the other boy to wake up.

Molly stormed up the stairs, giggling and shrieking with some of her neighborhood friends, and slammed her bedroom door behind them. Andy wasn’t startled, but it was enough to get him moving. He wiggled his legs, stretched his arms and groaned before rolling over and looking around his room. The first thing he noticed was of course Sid, standing in the middle of his room with a bag of peas over half of his face.

“Sid?” Andy, too groggy to sit up, rubbed his eyes before focusing on the other boy. “When did you get here?”

“Like ten minutes ago,” Sid said. He switched hands, his left arm having grown sore.

Andy grunted and scratched his head, ruffling his bed hair. “Oh. Why do you have peas?”

Sid shrugged. He knew it was coming, and he had only himself to blame for whatever consequences followed. He pulled the peas away from his face, showing Andy the bruised flesh around his swollen eye.

“Jesus Christ—“ Andy, though not especially religious, only ever took the Lord’s name in vain over especially serious events. He kicked the sheets away from his lower half and scrambled out of bed to Sid. “What happened? Who did this?”

“That asshole,” Sid hissed, suddenly overcome with rage. He’d been quiet up until then, the calm before the storm. Andy’s fingertips grazed his sore face and he hissed again, this time in pain. “I hate him.”

Andy, bless his soul, knew he needed an outlet for his pain. “I know. I would too, if I were you.”

Sid didn’t break down. He didn’t “do” breaking down, tears sliding down his cheeks and off his chin like the Niagara Falls; he did implode then collapse in exhaustion.

“I wish he would drink himself to death,” he went on, Andy holding the peas over his eye for him. “I wish he’d drown in his goddamn beer, I wish the alcohol’d finally poison him. I wish he’d walk onto the highway, drunk out of his fucking mind, I wish…”

Sid continued until his throat felt dry and his mind had swirled so much that his thoughts became a jumbled, confusing mess. The peas were thawing by then, and Andy briefly disappeared to put them back in the freezer and bring a small baggie of ice wrapped with a small, thin towel.

They were quiet; sitting across from each other on Andy’s little bed, they were unable to look away from each other. Andy moved then, squishing himself between Sid and the wall so he could put an arm around him.

“I asked mom if you could spend the night. She said yes.”

Sid, ice in his hand, awkwardly leaned against him. “I don’t think I’d get in without climbing through the window.”

“I think you left some clothes here last week,” Andy said, not ignoring Sid so much as trying to keep him on another track. “I put them in the closet. They’re clean.”

This time Sid grunted, but with a smile on his face. He quickly caught onto Andy’s intention. “Bet they smell good, like that Snuggle shit on TV.”

“We don’t use Snuggle. We use Downy.”

“It’s all the same to me.”

Andy laughed and nudged him aside so he could stand up. “I guess I’ll get the air bed?”

Sid would take the second bed, allowing them both enough room for a good night’s sleep. Tired as he was, he liked the idea of sleeping with Andy more than sleeping alone. He dropped the ice from his eye, his arms too sore to deal with it any longer. “I thought we’d sleep in your bed instead.”

Nodding, Andy crawled between Sid and the wall again. “That’s fine, but don’t hog the blanket again.”

“Excuse me?” Sid turned and dropped the ice on his back. Andy yelped and rolled, slapping at the baggie. In retaliation he shoved it beneath Sid’s shirt and watched him toss the ice to the floor. They laughed, and Andy gingerly pulled Sid down for a kiss.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the bruised boy’s forehead. “I’m here.”


End file.
